


Indigo

by carpelucem



Category: The Unit
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, M/M, Polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-23
Updated: 2014-09-23
Packaged: 2018-02-18 13:12:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2349614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carpelucem/pseuds/carpelucem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It starts with a shirt in Bob's duffle. Kim empties the bag of clothing and it's at the bottom, just a t shirt she doesn't recognize, worn and soft, so blue it's almost purple. </p><p>(Or, how two and two become three.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Indigo

**Author's Note:**

> For purposes of this fic, there is no transition to California in season 4, and it veers off-canon from there.

It starts with a shirt in Bob's duffle. Kim empties the bag of clothing and it's at the bottom, just a t shirt she doesn't recognize, worn and soft, so blue it's almost purple. It's a medium while Bob wears a large and Kim washes it with the rest of the laundry, folds it flat, and takes it over to Tiffy's the next day. 

"Think this is one of yours that was mixed in by mistake with Bob's things."

Tiffy pours Kim a cup of coffee, sits down with her own. "They must have been rooming together this time. Thanks for dropping it by, you didn't have to wash it."

"Like I'd send dirty laundry over to your house!" Kim laughs it off, picks a grape out of the bowl of fruit on the table. "My mom would have a fit, I'd never hear the end of it."

\-- 

Mack's been gone three months this time, and Kim knows the girls and Tiffy are ecstatic to finally have him home again. They're invited over for hamburgers and beers and a frosted cake for a belated birthday on a Sunday, and Kim can see there's a fresh pink scar just forming along Mack's neck. Kim hugs him extra tight when she says hello. 

"Give me that baby," Mack demands, takes Emily from Kim's arms and bounces her against his chest. When she spits up on his shirt, Mack just shakes his head, cooing at her, says it's lucky that she throws up with far more grace than her daddy. Kim sponges the sleeve, belatedly recognizing the navy cotton that stretches over Mack's shoulders as she dabs it off, apologizing again for the mess. 

"No trouble, she's the prettiest thing that's ever vomited on me, that's for sure." He switches arms and nuzzles Emily's face. "Aren't you, sweetheart?" 

Standing at the grill later, Kim sees Bob clap a hand on Mack's shoulder when he takes a sip off his beer, sees the thumb quickly swipe across the back of Mack's neck, tracing the line of the new skin for just a moment. 

Bob had gone out twice while Mack was gone, a couple days each time, but mostly in the office. Kim counts her blessings that her husband was able to stay home this mission, it looks like it was a bad one. 

\--

She's taking the kids to Texas for a week while Bob's deployed, and Kim's trying to get bags packed for the four of them as neatly as possible; she hates coming home to a dirty house. Instead of an extra soft-side, Kim pulls Bob's second wheeled suitcase from the hall closet, can pack Serena and Teddy's clothes together and make it easier on herself hauling everything in and out of the house. 

It's heavy, a pair of dress shoes in a soft bag inside, a pair of boxers, a copy of Time from a month earlier. 

Rolled in the front pocket, Kim finds a familiar blue shirt, pinholes along the seam from wearing without washing it. It smells like salt and sweat and the expensive aftershave Tiffy bought Mack for Father's Day. Kim remembers standing in Macy's testing them out and offering opinions. 

Kim just throws the shirt in the laundry room, not thinking much of it, and wheels the bag into her bedroom, calling for Serena to bring her clothes to Mommy.

\--

Mack's pushing a mower across the grass, still in jeans even in the thick summer heat. He'd waved at Kim across the street when she left for the post office, and as she pulls back into the neighborhood, he's finishing her lawn, a line of sweat dark down the middle of his back. 

She's juggling two boxes and a mailing tube when she gets out of the car, and Mack stops what he's doing to take them inside so Kim can unlatch Emily from her car seat. 

He wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt when he comes back out, and Kim can see a sunburn starting on the bridge of Mack's nose. "That's mighty neighborly of you, soldier. Can I get you a drink?"

"That'd be most appreciated, Mrs Brown, be done in a minute." Mack starts the mower back up, hits the last patch by her walkway.

Kim gets the baby settled on the floor while he finishes, pours him a glass of tea from the pitcher in her fridge when Mack ambles into her kitchen. 

"Not going in today?" She wets a dishcloth in the sink, hands it over to him for his face. 

"Colonel cut me loose, thought I'd get the lawn done while it was early. Still a beast out there, though." His shirt's sticking to his chest, rivulets from the water traced dark, salty trails half-dried in the sun. He turns to watch Emily bounce in her chair, and Kim remembers the t-shirt shoved in the back of the closet, the one she never took back to Tiffy, twice returning the same shirt seeming odd in Kim's mind. 

"It gets hotter every year, it seems. Hey, can you watch Em for a sec, Mack, I have something of yours I have to give back to you." Kim dashes down the hall, rummaging through her shelves. She pulls the t shirt out, and it smells more like fabric softener now, the lavender in her wardrobe. She folds it over in her hands again before laying it down in front of Mack. 

"This was in Bob's luggage, I think it's yours." 

Mack's eyes narrow for a moment, then he schools his expression when he looks back up at Kim. "Thanks, Kim." 

"I know how Bob gets attached to his shirts, has to break them in just right, I can't throw them out even when they're ratty." Her eyes fly up to his. "Not that it's ratty, I figured you might be missing that one, that's all."

"I had indeed, appreciate it." Mack pushes back, crouches by Emily.

"It's just, Mack, it's the second time I've found it in Bob's luggage."

Mack pushes the bouncer with a flat palm, swallows. "I'll take more care in the future, sorry for the mix up."

"No, really, it's no trouble." Kim kneels next to him, lays a hand over his shoulder. "I just didn't want your wife to think anything improper is all."

His smile is thin, his voice bitter. "Oh sweetheart, I appreciate it, but right about now, she's the last person who's worrying about me."

And Kim's not sure if that's meant to be insulting or reassuring, but tries to maintain as even a reaction as possible. "Well, that's probably not true, but I just didn't want to cause any trouble where none was due."

Mack looks at Kim, blue eyes pinning her to the spot. "No trouble at all. Appreciate it, though." Mack takes the shirt, wraps it around his hand. "Thanks for this, the drink. Should probably be getting home."

Kim stands at the same time. "No, you don't have to - I didn't mean to run you off, Mack."

His smile's lopsided when he looks at her and his hand reaches out, but it's halted suddenly by the door opening.

"Hon, forgot my - "

She can see Bob stop, frozen in his tracks when he rounds the corner and sees Mack standing so close to his wife.

"Hey." And it's then Kim turns to face her husband, but she sees he's not looking at her. No, his eyes are fixed on Mack, and she can see the moment he notices the shirt in Mack's hand. He raises an eyebrow and Mack shrugs, and it's an entire conversation in the space of a heartbeat or two that Kim can't hear.

"What's up?" His voice rings false, that forced casual note Kim despises, that Bob uses when he's tied up, talking about work im the barest of phrases.

It's silent again between them, far too long, and Kim's natural inclination to chatter, to smooth, to fix leads her. "Mack was kind enough to mow the yard. And I had this for him, found it in your bag, hadn't had a chance to drop it by, so I wanted to give it back."

But the words fall on deaf ears and Kim's not versed in that gestured shorthand the Unit teaches their men, but she knows Bob and she's come to know Mack and it's easy to discern when she's the third wheel. She scoops Emily up, takes her back to change her, lay her down for a nap.

They are still standing in the living room, the lines of their bodies tense, the hushed tones of their conversation too low to make out. Kim knows she can't sneak up on either of them, so she simply pauses at the doorway.

"I know it's not just a shirt."

They both turn, look at her, and for two men who are skilled enough to fool nearly everyone they come into contact with the world over, they're both doing a piss-poor job of concealing their emotions from her right now.

Because Kim knows she's right. Between all of the meetings, the near-death experiences, the casual touches and long glances, she KNOWS.

And they know she knows. Mack just mutters an apology, starts to stride away, when she calls out to him. "Mack, wait."

He stops, turns, levels her with that familiar stony gaze.

Kim reaches out her hand to Bob. He clasps it, lets her lead him forward. Standing in front of them both, she sees it now, even though it was never obvious before.

"Can't say you married a woman without sense, College Boy."

"No, I can't." Bob's watching her now, as is Mack, and they're both waiting for her to make a move.

And sure, Kim could be upset. Maybe she should be, but she's not going to deny that the thought of the two of them together is a little thrilling. And she's sure that while what Mack feels for her husband and what Bob feels for her are two different things, Kim knows she has no reason to feel threatened or put out of place. Her husband's a different person every day he's out of her sight, it only makes sense.

Of course, now Kim can't help but wonder, all those long assessing looks from Mack, those jokes, the casual touches on her hip or side or back over the years. They take on new meaning in this light. She told Mack once, his wife was a lucky woman, and she wasn't lying. Tiffy is lucky, whether she knows it or not.

Maybe knowing that Tiffy simply doesn't care anymore is why Kim doesn't feel guilty for what she does.

Because now, she extends her other hand, finds the fist Mack has clenched at his side. The calluses on his fingers when she slides hers in between are familiar, something Kim knows by touch alone now, something all the Unit partners have memorized. She squeezes tight, never breaking the look she's trained on him. Behind Kim, Bobs pulls up close. She feels his chest against her back, and the heat of it is reassuring.

"Well, soldier, what should we do about this?"

\--

A year later, and it's summer again, sticky and hot on the gulf.

Kim's left the kids with their grandparents in Houston, promised trips to NASA and the zoo and the beach in Galveston. Before driving away, she's thanking her parents profusely for taking them so she can slip away for a second honeymoon with Bob, at her cousin's place down on the coast.

The air grows heavier as she drives, wrapping around Kim like a blanket when she gets out of the car, in a fishing town an hour outside of Corpus.

The house is quiet, empty except for two go-bags in the master closet and a tub of live bait in the fridge. In the distance, she sees two silhouettes against the setting sun, casting their lines in an easy, synchronized rhythm.

The floor is gritty with sand later, fishing poles leaning against the door, and a pair of sunburned shoulders on either side of Kim in the wide bed. The moon casts the room in violet shadow, and the stifling humidity is barely tempered by the lazy swirl of the overhead fan.

Kim extracts herself from between heavy thighs and freckled biceps, climbing over Bob towards the door. He's sleeping like the dead, like he always does at home.

Kim pulls the first thing she finds over her head, sits to watch the waves lap the sand from the porch. The screen door slaps shut behind her a few minutes later, and Mack presses a bottle of water into her hand.

"Can't sleep?"

Kim shrugs, drinks deep. "Too warm. I remembered why I love central air." She catches the smirk on his face, knows how ridiculous she sounds, especially compared to all the nights she's sure they've spent in stinking, sweltering holes. "What about you, soldier?"

"Still a strange place, takes me a night or two to get adjusted." Mack leans back into the porch swing, an arm laid across the top.

"So, right about the time we leave, you'll be settled?"

"Probably, yeah. Not like Bob that way."

"No, not like Bob." Kim smiles at Mack. "I think we wore him out."

He returns the grin, white teeth in the dark night, and she knows that booming infectious laugh is threatening to spill over, wake up the rest of the street.

It's nice seeing Mack relaxed, seeing the kinks worked out of the twisted rope strung between the three of them. Things feel easier a year later, minus the fact that her heart races twice as fast on deployments. But she knows Mack and Bob have each other when they're away together, and it provides Kim an extra measure of comfort.

Despite the sticky warmth of the summer night, Kim fits neatly into the curve of Mack's arm and his palm settles over her shoulder. A breeze blows across the water and his fingers trace over her sleeve.

They sit awhile, listening to the ocean break across the sand. The laugh coming from Mack this time is quiet, but the look is anything but funny. It's fond and soft and unfamiliar to people who don't know him. Kim's so glad she does.

"What?"

He tugs a little at the cotton covering her. "You look good in my shirt."


End file.
